


"What good were eyes to me? Nothing I could see could bring me joy."

by Wickedrider98



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Blind!Jon, Blood, Body Horror, Canon-typical Jon having a bad time, Eye Trauma, M/M, Other, Post-Ny Alesund, Reaction, Unhappy Ending, kind of?, spoilers through MAG 142
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-02
Updated: 2019-08-18
Packaged: 2020-06-02 22:30:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 4,402
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19450777
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wickedrider98/pseuds/Wickedrider98
Summary: “Whatever it takes, right?” Jon’s hands visibly shook as he gripped the blade, “This is what it takes. Gertrude wouldn’t have hesitated.”Stopping the Extinguished Sun took more from Jon than expected, and now he and the rest of the Archival Staff have to deal with the consequences.





	1. Basira

Basira looked up from her book when Jon’s head slumped onto her shoulder as he slept, but she was too tired to shrug him off. It had been a long last few weeks, and she decided it was best to let him sleep. She sighed and glanced out the window. Flying home had definitely been the right decision, Basira wasn’t sure she could handle another boat ride. And besides, an airport was better equipped to handle Jon’s… situation than a port. It was also a much quicker trip, and both of them were anxious to get back. Her gaze drifted back to Jon. The suters had started to heal, and he insisted they didn’t hurt anymore, but that didn’t ease the guilt bubbling in her stomach. Jon did what he needed to do to stop The Extinguished Sun, she knew that, but a small part of her still wished they’d found a way that didn’t involve Jon taking a knife to his own eyes. Her attempts to talk him out of it had been weak at best, and were quickly shrugged off.  
“Whatever it takes, right?” Jon’s hands visibly shook as he gripped the blade, “This is what it takes. Gertrude wouldn’t have hesitated.”  
There hadn’t been nearly as much blood as Basira had imagined there’d be, though she wasn’t sure if that was due to TV and movies heightening her expectations or Jon’s new Beholding abilities. It was the screaming that had put her off. The inhuman sounds that escaped Jon as he severed the nerves and blood vessels connecting his eyes to the rest of his body had shook her to her core. Sometimes she still heard them in her nightmares. But tossing them to the Dark had worked, by having Eyes touched by the Beholding thrown into the center of the swirling black ball The People’s Church had called ‘The Final Sun’ had left the ritual unable to be completed. They’d managed to save the world for a second time, and yet again she considered it to be a hollow victory. Jon was now an Archivist, and Avatar of an Entity called The Ceaseless Watcher, who couldn’t see. He still had his powers, but there were logistical issues that came with them now. But, she figured, if Raynor could figure out how to head a cult to The Dark, then maybe Jon could navigate life as a blind Archivist.  
Jon stirring pulled her out of her thoughts. His head slowly drifted off of her shoulder  
“Basira…” he murmured, “how far…?”  
“Not very.” She responded.  
Jon nodded.  
“What do you think the others will say?”  
“Don’t know. How are you feeling?”  
“Alright,” Jon sighed, “I’m not in pain, but I’m getting hungry.”  
“I’ll try to flag down a flight attendant.”  
“No.” Jon’s voice was tense, “I mean I’m getting Hungry.”  
Basira sighed. These new urges that Jon was having were getting difficult to keep under control. The airport had been a new kind of Hell. She thought booking a red-eye flight would help lessen the temptation, but it didn’t stop Jon from attempting to pull statements from exhausted TSA workers and college students looking to travel the world on a budget.  
“We’ll figure something out when we land.” She muttered, “if someone reads a statement to you, does it have the same effect?”  
“It’ll have to.” Jon shrugged, “I can't exactly read them myself anymore.”  
He let out a rueful laugh.  
“You know, a little part of me hoped that maybe, just maybe, after I lost my eyes all of this would stop.”  
“I guess it still has plans for you.” she waved her hand dismissively, “now go back to sleep. It's another hour until we land and you're much easier to deal with when you aren't trying to get statements out of flight attendants.”  
Jon grumbled under his breath, but rolled back over and sleeping peacefully in a matter of minutes. Basira took out her phone and began to write a text to Daisy that she'd send as soon as they landed.  
_Ny Alesund didn't go as well as previously planned_ , it read, _here's what you need to do.._


	2. Daisy

Jon held on to Basira’s arm as they made their way down the stairs to the Archives. Daisy knew what had happened to him, but actually seeing what Basira had described in her text caught her off guard. Basira separated from Jon and left to find Melanie as he cautiously felt his way along the filing cabinets towards her.   
“Daisy?” He called out, one hand in front of him, “Melanie?”  
“I’m here,” Daisy grabbed a chair, “take a seat, you’re making me nervous. It’s right in front of you.”  
Jon nodded, his hand running along the smooth wood grain. He lowered himself into the chair.  
“Thank you.”  
“Don’t mention it.”   
Daisy sat across the table from him.  
“Tea?” She asked.   
“No. Thank you.” His sightless eyes turned towards her, “did uh… did Basira tell you what happened?”  
“Not in detail. Just that things didn’t go as planned, that you can’t see, and to get The Archives ready.”  
“I see.”  
There was a long silence.  
“You plan on telling me the full story?” Daisy prompted. Jon sighed and ran a hand through his disgruntled hair.  
“Yes. I suppose I should.” He took a deep breath, “did Basira ever tell you about how Gertrude stopped the Buried’s Ritual?”  
“Something about throwing a body touched by The Vast, right?”  
“Indeed.” Jon’s hands drummed on the arm of the chair, “well, when we arrived in Ny Alesund Basira left off to do some research. The Eye and The Dark, they’re opposites. We thought maybe if we tossed something touched by The Eye into this swirling black ball, The Final Sun they called it, at the right time then maybe we could put an end to it. She volunteered to do it in my place, told me I needed my sight more than her, but I couldn’t let her. I took the knife to my own eyes. It hurt. More than I can put into words. It felt like someone took hot lead and poured it into the sockets. Basira said I screamed? I honestly don’t remember.”  
“Probably for the best,” Daisy muttered, unruffled. In her time as a detective she’d seen and heard far worse than someone gouging their own eyes out. Enough bad drug trips, attempted suicides, and a victim shot in the head too many times to count had hardened her enough to not even be surprised by gore anymore. Then of course there were the monsters… She shuddered.   
“I guess.” Jon’s hollow reply pulled Daisy out of her spiral, “anyway, when things were... done, Basira was able to toss them into the Final Sun. I don’t know how, but it stopped it.”  
“And what happened after that? With you I mean.”  
Why didn’t your spooky mind powers heal you? She wanted to say. Jon seemed to get the message.  
“Both of us thought that maybe The Eye would repair it. It’s healed me before, but after about an hour at the hotel it became obvious that wouldn’t be the case this time.”   
Daisy nodded slowly.   
"I see." She murmured, "what are you gonna do about the statements?"  
"Basira is going to read them to me. It doesn't work quite as well as reading then myself, but it'll have to suffice. She wants to see if she can find someone to translate them to Braille for me," Jon rubbed the back of his neck, "but I can't say I want her to. Don't want to drag anyone else into this mess."  
“That’s fair.”  
Jon’s head tilted towards her at the sound of Daisy standing up from her chair.  
“Where are you going?” He asked.  
“Forgot my phone,” Daisy strode off towards her desk, “and there’s someone who’ll want to know you made it back. You stay there.”  
“But-”  
“Stay. There. I’ll be back, alright?”   
Jon grumbled under his breath, but nodded and relaxed back into his seat. Daisy grabbed her phone and scrolled to Martin’s number and typed out a simple message, deciding it was better to keep things vague.  
 _He’s back._


	3. Martin

Waiting to find an opportunity to sneak down to The Archives was torture for Martin. But as soon as he was certain Peter was gone, he was sprinting down the halls, back down to the place that his boss had tried so hard to keep him away from. Daisy was sitting at the table in the main part of the Archives when Martin skidded to a stop at the base of the stairs.  
“Where is he?” He asked breathlessly.  
“Break Room, with Basira.” Daisy didn’t look up from her computer, “he needed lunch.”  
“Can’t he do that for himself?”  
Daisy drew in a deep breath.  
“Look, Martin,” she sighed, “the Jon that came back from Ny Alesund, he’s not the same.”  
_Why is everyone being so cryptic all of a sudden?_ Martin thought, anger starting to bubble in his gut.  
“What happened?” He demanded.  
“I’m just saying, be ready for what you’re about to witness.”  
“What. Happened?”  
Daisy sighed, forcing herself to look at the man.  
“It’d be better if you saw for yourself.”  
She stood, and motioned for him to follow. They walked down the narrow hallway leading to the break room. Martin caught sight of Basira seated in one of the worn chairs, reading a statement to whoever was laying on the beat up blue couch. Martin’s heart fluttered when he saw Jon sit up at the sound of approaching footsteps.  
“Jon!” He shouted. The Archivist turned, and his blood ran cold. Jagged red scars surrounded Jon’s eyes, which were now shut. Martin was caught off guard. When Daisy had said he wasn’t the same, he’d honestly expected something not unlike the statement he’d taken from the anonymous woman. Finding Jon, The Archivist, The Avatar of The Ceaseless Watcher, without his sight was startling to say the least.  
“Martin?” His voice was hopeful, “is that you?”  
Daisy nudged his shoulder, gently urging him forward.  
“Go slow,” she murmured, “he’s still getting used to it.”  
Martin nodded, taking a few steps forward.  
“Yeah,” his voice was low as he took a spot on the couch, “yeah it’s me.”  
He reached out to touch the scars, but stopped. Jon smiled, causing Martin’s heart to soar again. It was so rare to see that smile, and now…  
“You can touch Martin.” Jon whispered, “it’s… it’s alright.”  
Martin closed the gap and cupped Jon’s face.  
“What happened?” His thumb gently traced the scar on Jon’s cheek, “The People’s Church, did they…?”  
“No. Not directly anyways. We needed something touched by The Eye to toss into their ‘Final Sun’, so I made a decision.”  
“Jon...”  
“It’s alright Martin really, I’m coping with it.”  
“I can’t believe you put yourself in danger again.”  
Basira snorted.  
“Are you even surprised anymore?” She grumbled. Daisy put an arm around her.  
“Maybe we should give them some privacy?” The Huntress led her out of the room, murmuring something about going a bit easier on him, and leaving the statement on the table. There was a long silence.  
“So… Peter Lukas then?” Jon asked.  
“Don’t try to change the subject.”  
Jon sighed, leaning back against the worn cushions.  
“Very well,” he muttered.  
“Why…Daisy said The Eye speeds up your healing, why didn’t it fix this?”  
Another pause.  
“I wondered the exact same thing,” his head was turned towards the ground, “Basira and I both did. She thinks it’s because it happened in The Dark’s stronghold. I just assume that even the Eye has its limits. And I exceeded it.”  
Martin slowly nodded.  
“Does,” his voice shook, “does it hurt?”  
“It did at first, but not anymore.” Martin noticed Jon’s hands had started to tremble, “they gave me painkillers in the hospital, and besides it’s mostly healed now. I’ve been learning to deal with it.”  
“God Jon, I’m so sorry,” he placed his free hand over Jon’s, “I should never have left the Archives.”  
“This isn’t your fault Martin.” The Archivist’s face turned to his, “don’t feel like it is.”  
“I shouldn’t have left.” his voice was stronger now, “and I’m… I’m not gonna leave you this time. Not like this.”  
Jon’s face lit up.  
“Does that mean…?” concern etched itself on his stark features, “but, Peter, won’t he…?”  
Martin let out a bitter laugh.  
“ _Peter_ doesn’t own me.” he explained, “he won’t be happy, but I am still my own person. I’m not going anywhere. I want to stay here. With you.”  
“Thank you.” Jon whispered, “it’s good to have you back.”  
“Of course.” Martin glanced back at the table, “now, what do you say about finishing that statement?”  
The Archivist smiled softly.  
“I’d like that.”


	4. Georgie

Georgie thought she was ready for anything. Being unable to feel fear wasn’t natural, but gave her the ability to remain calm in the toughest situations. Like having your ex show up on your doorstep in the pouring rain and finding out he was framed for murder, or a few months later when she got the call that he was in a coma after saving the world, or having him wake up six months later. After the last two years, she thought nothing could surprise her anymore.  
That all changed when Jon showed up on her doorstep once again, angry red scars around his closed eyes, being assisted by a stuttering blonde man who introduced himself as ‘Martin’. He and Georgie helped him settle down on the couch, The Admiral leaping into his lap and purring loudly. Jon absently stroked his ginger fur.  
“Well, uh, I’d imagine you two want some space,” Martin rubbed the cat’s head, “I saw a bookstore not far from here that I wanted to check out, I’ll be there if you need anything. Jon, text me when you’re ready. Nice meeting you Georgie.”  
“Likewise.” Georgie smiled, “see you later.”  
She waited until Martin was gone before turning to Jon.  
“So… how have you been?” He asked. Georgie couldn’t tell if this was his attempt at trying to lighten the mood, or if he was just that bad at reading the tone.   
“What the hell happened this time!?” She shouted, spooking The Admiral, “where are your eyes, and why are you even more scarred up than last time?”  
“Oh, that.” Jon rubbed the back of his neck, “I uh, there was another ritual. I stopped it. That's all."  
"No Jon. That's not all," she snapped, having flashbacks to when they were dating, "you were dead for six months. I worried about you, I cried over you. I thought I lost you. Then you come back to life and snap on me. I don't hear anything from you for three months, and then you show up on my doorstep looking like this, and that is all you have to say for yourself? You're going to need a better explanation than that."  
Jon sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose.   
"You're right," he murmured, "and you deserve a better explanation. One of the Entities, The Dark, they were trying to complete a ritual, like the one that… well, you saw what happened. Anyway, Basira and I traveled to Ny Alesund in Norway, where we knew the Ritual would take place. Once we got there she did some research, and found we needed to toss something touched by The Eye to the object of their ritual. Eventually it surfaced we might need to toss the eyes of someone touched by The Eye, and…"  
“Jonathan Sims," Georgie rubbed her temples, "are you telling me you had Basira gouge out your eyes because she thought it might work?”  
Jon awkwardly rubbed the back of his neck, his permanently closed eyes drifted to the ground.  
“Not exactly…” he murmured, “I uh… I did it to myself.”  
Georgie groaned.   
"Dear God Jon."   
"It worked though!"   
“That doesn’t-!” She sighed, “never mind. Why are you here Jon?”  
“I came here to apologize.” Georgie stiffened, “for snapping on you, for disappearing, for not communicating, for… for everything. God, I’m so sorry Georgie. You deserved so much more. So much better. I know this doesn’t make up for anything I’ve done, but I hope it’s at least a start.”  
Georgie sighed. Jon was never one to apologize, even when they were together it had been few and far between.   
“Jon…” she took a spot next to him and grabbed his hand.  
“I don’t expect you to forgive me,” Jon’s voice cracked, “but I’m sorry. I am so incredibly sorry.”  
Tears started to creep down his face. Georgie gently grabbed his face, wiping the liquid from his cheeks.  
“I’m sorry,” he whimpered again. She hugged his thin body closer to her, stroking his soft brown hair. A small gesture, but one she’d learned soothed him after even the worst nightmare. Jon buried his face in the crook of her neck, she could feel his tiny gasping breaths against her skin.  
“I can’t say I forgive you yet,” Georgie whispered into his hair,”not entirely anyway. But it’s a start.”   
“Thank you.”   
“Of course.”  
She gently rubbed small circles into his back, shocked by how knotted his muscles were.   
“You really need to take better care of yourself,” Jon groaned, having heard this lecture before, “especially now. Take a break, let your body heal.”  
“My eyes have healed.”  
“Has the rest of you?”  
Jon was silent, which told Georgie everything she needed to hear.  
“Jon. I’m begging you, please practice some kind of self-care. Even if it’s just a little nap every now and again.”  
“Okay.”  
“You have to promise me.”  
Jon sighed.  
“I promise.” He grumbled.   
Georgie nodded.  
“Good,” her voice was low, “because if you don’t, I will march down to the Archives and force you to.”  
A small smile crept across The Archivist’s face.  
“I wouldn’t expect anything less from you.” He said with a chuckle. They were broken by a loud meow from The Admiral, who was currently sandwiched between the two of them. They laughed, separating to give the cat his space.  
“Do you want some tea?” She asked, “with me up that’ll give The Admiral all the space he needs.”  
“I’d like that.”   
Georgie nodded and stood.   
“I’ve really missed you Georgie,” Jon murmured as she walked by. Georgie smiled and planted a tiny kiss on his forehead as she passed, smirking at the blush creeping across Jon’s scared face.   
“Yeah,” she whispered, “I missed you too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Georgie and Jon may not have made up in canon but they did in my heart. Also platonic kissing is just *chef's kiss*


	5. Elias

“Bouchard, you have a visitor!” The guard’s voice cut through the peace of Elias’s solitude. The former Head of the Magnus Institute glanced up from _Infinite Jest_.   
“Who is it?” He asked.  
“Dunno. Some rich bloke, a little too friendly for my taste.”  
Elias groaned.  
“‘Take it you know him?”  
“Unfortunately. Let’s get this over with, shall we?”  
The guard lead him down the hall to an interrogation room. Peter sat in the chair across from him as Matthew checked his handcuffs before stepping outside and shutting the door.  
“Well Elias,” Peter’s eyes glinted, “how is prison life treating you?”  
“What do you want Peter,” he sighed, “I was just getting to the good part of my book, and I would like to know how it ends.”  
“Can’t you just know how it ends?”  
The Sea Captain was clearly enjoying himself.  
“Just get on with it.” Elias hissed, causing his husband to smile.  
“Have you seen what trouble your Precious Archivist has gotten himself into now?”   
Elias sighed, a relaxed grin on his face.  
“Ah,” he responded, “that. Yes, I have.”  
“You seem to be taking total blindness of your only hope for the Watcher’s Crown rather well.” Peter cocked an eyebrow.  
“If you’ve come here to gloat you’ll have to do better than that. Unlike your Patron mine has options when those we’re manipulating go against what we plan.”   
"Dear God, you already know how this is going to end for him, don't you?" Peter's frown was met with a cheeky smile from Elias, "This won't end well for him, will it?"  
"Hard to say. But enough about me," he couldn’t help himself, “Tell me Peter, how are your attempts at bringing Martin to The Forsaken going?”  
Peter's smile faded as he rolled his eyes.  
"Don't get me started."   
Elias laughed, easing himself back into the chair.   
"See? It helps to have backup plans."  
"Even if you can't share them."  
"You'll know soon enough. It'll be hard to miss."  
Peter's eyes widened.   
"You don't mean…?"  
"I do."  
"And you're sure of this?"   
"How could I not be?"   
Peter sighed and ran a hand through his graying blonde hair, forcing himself to meet Elias's icy smile.   
"Well," he finally murmured, "maybe this'll be the thing that sends Martin back to me. He's been off in the Archives since the Archivist came back."  
"I know."   
Peter smiled in spite of himself.   
"Of course you do."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was my first time writing for these bantering old Bastards so feedback is appreciated


	6. Jon

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Big Trigger Warning for Body Horror/eye horror this chapter, be careful please!

Jon blinked awake in the still-dark room near the tunnels. Martin was curled on the mattress next to him, still snoring peacefully. He slowly slid out of bed, careful not to wake the blonde man. Jon caught sight of Basira cuddled against Daisy's chest, her hand in the Hunter's red hair. The yellow door on the opposite side of the room evidence of Melanie's choice to stay the night with Helen in her corridors, not as a prisoner but a friend. Jon rubbed his eyes, still trying to adjust to the darkness. He made his way into the dimly lit main hallway of the Archives, making his way to his office for an early morning statement before the others woke up. He grabbed the one at the top of the pile on his desk, a Lonely statement about faceless profiles online harassing a man for months. His hand moved to flick the file open when he caught sight of something that caused him to send the manilla folder crashing to the ground.   
"No, God no. Please!" Jon muttered, sprinting to the bathroom. How strange the human brain was, he thought, to completely forget that his sight was gone and had been for almost four months now. To convince him that everything was fine when he suddenly woke up able to see, and to go about his morning like nothing was wrong.   
Jon scrambled for the light switch and stood in front of the mirror, mute with shock and horror as the silver eyes he had stabbed out to stop the Dark's ritual stared back at him, to of many that were now embedded in his body. Jon flung off his shirt, trying to see how far they spanned. Irises of all sizes and colors donned his body where scars from worms, wax, and knives once were. He held his hand out, the one Jude had incinerated. His palm shuddered, and a sapphire iris blinked itself awake, turning and focusing on his face.   
Jon tried to scream, but no sound came, not even as his fist collided with his reflection. He slumped to the ground as shards of glass fell around him from the shattered mirror, littering the ground like a harsh snow. He stared down at his hand, waiting for the blood to flow but knowing it never would. Quiet sobs wracked his thin body as he shook, eyes not leaving his palm.   
"Jon!? Are you okay?" Martin's voice cut through the air, "We heard glass shatter- MY GOD!"   
the blonde man fell on him in an instant, helping Jon to his feet and placing a hand on his back, minding the green eye at the base of his neck.   
"It's okay Jon," he whispered, "you're okay. It's going to be okay."   
"Eyes. So many Eyes," The Archivist's voice shook, "I don't, I can see, I can see too much. I can't ..."   
"I know," Martin was petting his hair, "I know. It's a lot, but we'll figure something out, its okay."  
He lead him back into the sleeping area where Basira, Daisy, and Melanie stood talking in a huddle. Basira was the first one to notice them.   
"What…?" her eyes landed on Jon, "my God…"   
The three began to crowd around him, but Martin shooed them back.   
"Give him some space," he helped the Archivist sit down on his cot and draped a thick blue blanket around his shoulders, "He's had one Hell of a morning."   
"I can imagine," Daisy murmured, kneeling down in front of Jon, "They're everywhere… can he see out of all of them?"   
"He said something about seeing too much, so I think he can."   
"Jesus, how are we supposed to keep this hidden?" Melanie glared down at the man, "I mean, he doesn't leave often but when he does…"   
"He can't leave now." Basira's tone was firm.   
"What?" Martin shouted, "you can't just keep him trapped in here like some, some…"   
"Monster." Jon's voice cracked. He knew this day would come, when stepping out of the Archives wouldn't be possible for him anymore. He just hadn't expected it to end like this.   
"It's okay Martin," Jon finally found his voice, "I knew it would come to this."   
"No, it's not okay, we'll find some way to fix this," Martin's voice shook, "we'll find a way to fix this. I promise."   
"I'm not sure we can," Basira responded, "We know that it's nearly impossible to reverse things done by The Powers, and this… we probably couldn't remove it without killing him."  
"You're wrong." Martin asserted, "I know you're wrong. We'll fix this. We'll find a way."   
Martin patted Jon's shoulder, offering to make tea as he rushed off. The others set about their usual morning routines, leaving Jon huddling into the warmth of the blanket. His eyes, the ones in their correct place, blurred as he stared blankly down at the sockets in his arms. The multicolored eyes focused on their master, making Jon nauseous. Something about being able to stare at those eyes and see both his stare and the one returned unsettled him. Martin returned and pushed a mug into his hands before sitting down, causing Jon to instinctively lean against his shoulder.   
"It's alright Jon, you'll be alright." Martin murmured when he felt hot tears against his skin, "we'll fix this."   
As he hugged the smaller man closer to his chest, Jon swore he could hear Elias, laughing deep in the back of his mind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IT'S DONE! IT'S FINALLY DONE! This is the first chapter fic I've done and actually finished ever, so I'm pretty hyped.   
> If you wanna yell at me for sad crimes or about TMA in general hit me up on tumblr at vigilo-operior-audio. Thanks for waiting on the last bit!


End file.
